Plan B
by chips2
Summary: Gapfiller C4, 13.1.11.  Ste pays Brendan a visit hours after the club manager has seen Kyle Ryder.  Both men are tired after a virtually sleepless night but some shut eye is the last thing on either man's mind when Ste is invited in...


I hear the knock on the door and I know who it is before I open it.

The little fekker. I was trying to get some sleep after being up most of the night driving out of Hollyoaks and back on Warren's errand.

I can barely stand up for the fatigue.

"I've been trying to get hold of you all night." Stephen says anxiously, leaning in towards me in the doorframe.

Jesus, how can he carry so much energy about him when I know he couldn't have had much more sleep than I got; especially since he got that middle-of-the-night visit from Warren looking for proof that he made the delivery to Kyle.

"Are you alright?" He asks as I caress my eyes down from his face to his slender body. It is covered by that ugly oversized blue striped shirt he bought with my hush money after casino night and a black jacket.

I am barely listening to him. He talks too much and 99% of it is pointless.

Instead I wonder why he can't develop a fashion sense. We have similar lithe physiques although mine is taller. He could go up a couple of notches in appeal if he began to dress right; and ditched the chavvy look he goes for.

Oh well, there is always plan B. Lose the clothes all together. Get him naked.

I stare steadily at him as I lean against the door. That normally fazes him. But it doesn't shut him up today.

"Warren gave me a right grilling." He says not bothering to pause to take a breath. "Did you speak to him then? Kyle?"

He knows I did. I texted him throughout my meeting with the escaped convict.

I look behind him. No one is around which means no one will see him coming into the flat which means no one will raise eyebrows about why Stephen and me are shacked up alone at my place in the early morning with no one else home.

"Yeah, yeah, I did." I look down at his chest, then his exposed neck where the flicker of his heartbeat is going a mile a minute. How he holds a tan in winter, I will never know.

I lean close enough to catch a whiff of his aftershave. "And very interesting it was too."

"What did he say?" He asks softly.

"Come on in and I'll tell ya." I give him a small smile. "Cheryl's out."

That finally shuts him up.

He looks hesitant. I can practically see his brain working as he considers what to do. I can understand his uncertainty. Every time he comes near me he plays Russian roulette. Will he end up getting fucked so good he doesn't know his own name or will he get a bashing?

What he doesn't understand is that they are different sides of the same coin. I know that sounds fecked up but it is true. They both express how I feel about him. My fecked up feelings.

I want him so I feck him.

I don't want to want him so I bash him.

"I am not going to hurt ye, Stephen." I promise as I probe him with my eyes. "Come in."

I already know what he will do before he does because it is what I do every time he is near me. Like a moth to a flame, the fire burns but we are, both of us, powerless to resist it.

He silently walks in past me and I check to see no one has seen him come in again before closing the door.

I walk up to him with purpose, rolling the gum in my mouth with my tongue. Plan B is well underway. Any resistance Stephen puts up now is bullshit; his mind telling his stubborn body what it should do.

His body will win out as mine does, time and again.

Still, he looks frightened. His eyes are wide and guarded. He is practically leaning away. He is scared of me.

Knowing that makes something in my heart squeeze. I have caused this reaction but I want him to know that I would never hurt him.

Not again.

I come to a stop in front of him and sigh. Our groins are flush and I can feel the heat between us and it does unspeakable things to me.

I let out a slow breath as I reach my hand up to his temple and gently coax the hair off his forehead with my fingers until the palm of my hand rests on his cheek.

I make my intention clear in the expression I give him. He should be thankful I am on this side of the coin today.

I want to fuck him.

He looks at me with disbelief and says something pointless as I stroke his soft cheek. "It is only on your terms, isn't it?"

"Is it?" I ask. _He_ is the one who walked into the apartment with his own two feet when he has a girlfriend at home.

I stroke a thumb across his lips and stare at his mouth. I get flashes of what he can do with it when we are in bed, apart from bore me to tears with talking.

I want to possess him. I lean in ready to capture his lips with mine.

"Then walk away." I whisper and smile. I know it is cocky but it is a bit like asking a fat man to step away from his super-size meal.

Stephen isn't going anywhere.

I don't have to wait long. Before I know it I feel like a million dollars because one of his hands grips the back of my head pulling me to him and he opens his mouth over mine allowing my tongue to wind in with his.

He is full on. Hungry. Possessive. Ferocious. The horny little fekker. His soft lips and warm wet tongue welcome me. He is forgetting himself. And he is causing me to lose my control. That will not do.

I pull away from him to clear my head and place two fingers over his slightly open gasping mouth. I look at it eagerly.

"Easy, Stephen." I whisper. "I'm starting to worry Rae isn't attending to yer needs."

He opens his mouth wide and takes my fingers into him wetting them and sucking them while looking me point blank in the eye.

Feck. I didn't see that coming. I feel myself harden as I get a sense memory of him doing the same to my dick. He was a quick study; he took to sucking dick like a duck to water.

He releases my fingers. "Let's not talk about her." He says quietly, before burying his head into the crook of my neck.

"Okay." I gently comb my fingers through his hair, grab a firm fistful and pull him back. I know it hurts him but it is necessary to give me time to get some composure.

"Let's go to bed." I whisper into his ear.

I let go of him and walk up the flight of stairs to my room. It is not easy with a hard on. Stephen wordlessly follows behind me.

Once we get inside I get down to business.

Plan B is in operation.

"Take yer clothes off, Stephen."

I can see in his frown that he wants to protest, maybe ask me to say 'please'.

I raise an eyebrow at him waiting. "I haven't got all day."

He pauses for a second before quickly stripping. I smile as I see him fold his clothes as he takes them off one at a time and places them on a chair. You wouldn't guess it by looking at him but the boy is a neat freak.

He stops when he gets to his boxers. Fair play. I will enjoy taking them off.

He stands in front of me, all lanky limbs and bronzed skin looking shy. His arms are folded around his chest protectively.

He has no bruises on him. I haven't raised a finger to him recently. There is no mark of me on him. No imprint. And I know it is because he is following my rules. He doesn't push it and test me. And recently I want him more than I want to not want him. If you know what I mean.

I sit on the edge of the bed and indicate to him to walk up to me. He does and stands in between my legs.

His crotch is at eye level and he is hard, tenting the material of his underwear.

"Come 'ere." I whisper and he bends his head. This time I set the pace. Nice and slow. The kiss, that is. My hands drag up his slim body to wind around his neck and pull him down to me. He brings his hands up to my shirt and I feel him working the seams.

I pull away and look into his lustful hooded blue eyes. "Did I tell ye ye could take my shirt off?"

He stays quiet but places his hands on my shoulders, a safe place as I put mine on his hips.

"Didn't think so." I mumble and pull him firmly to me startling him. He gasps as I stuff my face into his groin and inhale. He groans loudly and the sound transmits straight to my dick.

Feck, he got me harder in an instant from that alone!

I open my mouth over the head of his cock and start sucking through the cotton, wetting the area, before travelling down the shaft with my tongue rubbing over it until it strains against the damp material of his pants.

"Brendan!" He gasps, squeezing my shoulders even tighter. He bucks against me and tries pulling me closer to him.

I still his actions. "Patience."

He groans. He doesn't know the meaning of the word so I let it slide when he tugs at the waistband of his pants anxiously. I kiss his belly button, lick down his body and then bite the skin over his pants.

"Ouch!" He says.

Whatever. The mark will be gone in a second. I look up at him, and give him a smile.

He grins tentatively back at me. I hate it when he looks at me like that; like I am his oxygen. It suffocates me but also makes me want to protect him. It makes me want this to never end.

Feck. He is making me think like a girl.

I pull his boxers down in one motion until they are down to his ankles. He steps out of them and picks them up so that he can put them on top of his pile of clothes.

"Leave it." I order quietly.

He drops them again and stands up, naked as the day he was born. He is a scrawny little fella, is Stephen, but he has been blessed in a certain department. I grip the base of his cock and lick the head before coating the whole thing with a layer of my spit. When it is nice and wet, I pump it a few times with my hand just to see him throw his head back.

My laugh comes from deep in my throat. But that is just the beginning. I take him into my mouth, as much of him as I can, and get to work.

I moan as I taste his precum.

After a while the little brat starts thrusting into me slowly and deliberately, sighing in pleasure.

He needs to check himself. Nobody fecks Brendan Brady.

I pull off him and he groans in frustration. His eyes, that had fallen closed, spring open. I stand. This close up, I tower over him and look down with wide wild eyes. I manhandle him until I can push him onto his back on my king-size bed.

I consider his slight but toned body. I could fuck him on his hands and knees, face down, arse up but I won't get to see his expression when I push into him. If I'm honest, seeing his face when I am in him is second to none. It is half the fun.

He lies on his back waiting for my next move and fists his cock leisurely. He draws his legs up while looking at me and let's his hand move between his legs to his perineum.

His face flushes as he then brings it up to lick his fingers. I hitch a breath when his moist fingers slip over his hole. He closes his eyes and bites his lower lip. His legs go up further as he rubs his puckered tight entrance over and over again, sighing at the sensation.

"Fuck." I say. My groin feels uncomfortable. No surprise. My dick is fighting for freedom from its cotton cage. I am still fully clothed but that can be corrected in no time.

Lightweight jacket, belt, jeans and briefs are in a messy heap on the floor in the blink of an eye. I am about to whip off my tee-shirt but the wee fecker has started fucking himself with two fingers while jacking himself off.

He distracts me.

Stephen's eyes are barely open as he looks at me. He spreads his legs even more and continues to finger himself.

He groans and sighs, "Brendan! Please!"

I'm not going to lie. The begging works. I reach for the lube and a condom in the side table.

Who is really in control here? I have a terrible feeling that at this moment it isn't me so I do something about it.

I pass my employee the condom and tug at my cock a couple of times. I am so ready to bury myself deep into him that it almost hurts.

"Put it on me." I say harshly through clenched teeth.

He uses both hands to sheath me and sits up to give my cock a quick kiss. I suppress a laugh at his action. It is as if he is thanking it for what it is about to do to him.

"Lift your hips." I whisper and he does as told. I get a pillow and fold it under him so that he is at a perfect angle.

I coat my cock and his arse hole with lube; not that it is necessary. Stephen has done a commendable job preparing himself.

He makes a keening sound when I rock myself against his hole.

"Is this what you want, Stephen?" I murmur as I thrust my cock hard against him, grazing his puckered entrance.

He whimpers and nods.

"What was that?" I say and bend to lick my tongue against his upper lip. "Speak."

I never thought I'd be asking him to talk.

His eyes are dark with need. I have got him where I want him. I am back in control. Little fekker. Thought he could get one up on me.

"Yes, Brendan." He sighs as I continue my movements. "I want you in me."

I smirk. "You want me to fuck ye."

"Yes." He pulls me into a kiss. His tongue mimics the actions that my dick is so desperate to act out. "Please."

I grin lopsidedly at him as I sit back up on my knees, shuffle closer and slowly plunge into him. I keep my eyes trained on his. They widen as does his mouth as I invade his heat. Pleasure/pain. The perfect metaphor for what we are. He gasps as inch by inch I fill him. His hands loosely grip my waist as if he has some say in setting the pace of my advance.

He doesn't.

Fuck, he is so tight. His arse grips me firmly as I continue to enter him. I laugh at how I feel. How he makes me feel.

I am the only one on this Earth that has done this to Stephen. For some reason, knowing this makes me feel like a king.

He moans when I am fully in him, balls deep. His body has gone a blotchy red from the adrenalin rush. He can't keep his eyes open.

I place his legs over my shoulders and feel their soft hairs under my fingertips as I bring my hands down to curl around his thighs so I can push him even more flush against my cock.

"How does that feel, Stephen?" I ask. There is a shake in my voice that I despise. _I_ _am in control_, I tell myself.

"Good." He whispers and sighs.

I feel a strange emotion in me that uncurls and threatens to present itself and make me say something stupid and _pointless_ but I ignore it.

Instead, I lean over Stephen. "Let the fun begin." I whisper in his ear.

I plan to fuck the hell out of him; demolish any 'strange emotions' and weird feelings I may have when I am with him. This is why I keep coming back to Stephen.

The sex.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

I intend to make him realise that too so that he can give up on his dreams of dates and gay bars and relationships.

I don't start slow. I start as I mean to finish. I fuck him hard. My fingers dig into his thighs as I push into him with long, deep thrusts that leave me breathless and sweating.

I can hear my own gasps as I pummel into his heat. I could do this forever. I swear. Get lost in Stephen Hay. Now, that's a thought.

Sex has never been this good.

I don't want to care how he is feeling but I do. His moans and sighs are encouraging. He drags out "Yes" and moans a low sultry "Brendan" when I _really_ hit the spot. That alone turns me on and drives me.

He hooks his ankles together behind my neck and pulls me closer to him using the power of his legs. I oblige. I like it when we are flush and I penetrate him while our sweaty bodies slip and slide against each other. It is a shame I didn't take my tee-shirt off really. That pleasure is attenuated.

I wrap my arms around him and press my lips to his. We tongue and it charges me even more. I hear the sound of me slapping repeatedly against him and our joint chorus of sounds.

"God, ye feel so good!" I groan.

I'm too far gone to stop and be angry with myself for what I said. But I am startled by what Stephen does next.

His hands tentatively come up to cup my cheeks. His flushed face studies mine and for a moment I am frozen into inaction. It is as if he is searching my soul. He looks at me with passionate intent and strokes my cheek gently. Then he leans up to kiss me tenderly, smiles and rests back into the bed. I look back at him, bewildered. I have one question on my mind.

What was that for?

Through his action he has changed the mood between us. Lust and aggression have taken a back seat. He has taken the pedal off the accelerator. He has injected gentleness to proceedings.

I thrust twice unhurriedly into him and then pull out and look down at him.

Little fekker.

He whimpers. "No."

I can see that he thinks he has done something wrong.

"Brendan?" He whines.

"What?" I say briskly.

"I'm sorry." He whispers. I am not sure he knows why he is apologising but it doesn't matter. He does so to get what he wants; my dick back in him.

He may not know it but he holds the power here in this bed, hard as I try to prise it from him.

I should throw him out for daring to make what we are doing more than it is; an animalistic fuck driven by an insatiable desire for him rather than an expression of something ... else.

But as I said, my mind cannot win over my stubborn body; not where Stephen is concerned.

I move off him, lie on my back and squirt a little more lube onto my sheathed erect cock.

"I'm tired now." I say in a bored tone and cover my eyes with the back of my hand. I feel him crawl up over me to straddle my thighs and I peer up at him through my fingers. "I'm done doing all the work."

"Oh." He says quietly. He glances down at my cock.

I smile as I see him lick his lips. "Go on then, Stephen. Jump on before I fall asleep."

"Shit Brendan!" He smiles softly with relief as he moves to straddle my waist. He pulls my hand off my face and traps my wrists with his hands either side of my head.

"I thought you were going to say we were done."

"Let go of me, Stephen." I warn but I don't actually mind being trapped by him.

"Can I take your tee-shirt off?" He asks. "I want to see ya."

I raise an eyebrow. "You are only human."

He lets go of me, I sit up and he makes quick work of taking my shirt off.

He then takes my dick in his hand behind him and smiles at me cheekily before leaning forward slightly so that he can press the head of my cock against his hole. I close my eyes waiting for the feeling of tight warmth to surround me again but it doesn't come. Instead he rubs me against him. Over and over again.

He moans from the friction. The fekking tease. He has been playing me like a fool all this time with his pointless chat, violent kisses, arse fingering and face touching. Now he has me exactly where he wants me; desperate to fuck him again.

Ours is a silent power struggle.

"Are you having trouble finding the bull's-eye?" I mutter, determined not to sound desperate. I don't wait for an answer.

I grab my dick and push into him hurriedly. There. Take that, Mr. Hay!

"Argh!" He moans loudly.

I push him down so that he is fully seated on me.

I smirk in satisfaction. That's my work done. Now it is over to him.

He grabs his own cock and rocks slowly on me; milking me with his internal muscles. It is a slow conquest but it is effective. He looks down at me with a mouth that is slightly gaping. His abs flex rhythmically as he moves.

"Oh my God!" He groans.

I push his hand away from his dick and take over, stroking him in time with his gyrations. He is incredible when he does this. It is as if he is on the ride of his life and he is taking me along with him.

I don't know how much longer I can hold out. Thank goodness he is close. He is making that sound that I have learned means he is moments away from climax. He encourages me to pump his dick quicker by putting his hand over my fist. In turn, he bounces on me with more intent.

As he cums all over my hand, I feel his internal muscles ripple against me amazingly, encouraging my climax forward.

"Fuck!" I moan loudly as I unload into latex. Stephen doesn't stop his movements straight away.

But eventually fatigue takes over and he collapses onto me and surrounds me with his lanky limbs while he buries his head in my neck, breathing harshly.

I know what I should do now. I should push him off me and mumble something like, 'Okay, good. Now I need you to go to the club. We are expecting a delivery. Chop, chop.' But I can't. I am too tired and his body feels good against mine.

So I pull out and roll him away so that he lies next to me. I get up and turn away to dispose of the condom. When I get back into bed I am shocked to see Stephen on his feet putting on his boxers and top quickly.

"What are you doing?" I ask, pulling covers over my bottom half. The sweat cooling on my body is making me feel cold.

He looks back at me uncertainly as he holds his jeans in one hand. "Going?"

God, he is so used to our 'fuck and go' sex that he is half way out the door without waiting for my caustic, dismissive one-liners.

But today, I don't want him to go.

"Stay." I say without looking at him.

"Really?" He looks at me as if I might be unwell.

"Yeah." I say.

He jumps back into bed, unfortunately partly clothed, and sidles up to me with a huge grin on his face. I lift the covers so that he can get in as well and pull him close to me.

"I need yer body heat. It's fekking freezing and the heating is bust." I explain.

He looks at me with a knowing smile. "You want to snuggle."

I don't deign that with an answer.

Ludicrous, pointless words.

I lazily turn him away from me so that he lies on his side and I spoon up to him. I curl an arm around his waist and pull our bodies together until they are flush.

Maybe his blue top is not that bad.

I gently place a kiss on his ear, close my eyes and then whisper tiredly.

"This is not snuggling, Stephen."


End file.
